Clandestine Memories of Us
by EnigmaticIllusions
Summary: In the absence of our memories; the very things that drew us towards our partners, can love still blossom? Or will new personalities emerge and keep us from what we believed was destined? These are the questions Callie and Arizona find themselves asking when Callie loses all memories of her wife. Set Post Season 9 finale.
1. Slowly Breaking Apart

Heartbreak was unfortunately, nothing new to Calliope Torres. Sure, every person, however immune they believe themselves to be, experiences heartbreak in one form or another. It's an inevitable part of life; maybe it's not between lovers but between friends, maybe it's the cold shoulder from a family member but whatever the situation and the factors that pertain to it; heartbreak is the end result. It's pain level varies from case to case but the initial pain is always the same.

It is a pain that no amount of medicine or surgery can cure and it is entirely up to the brokenhearted to mend their souls and attempt to piece together what remains of the beating and battered muscle in their chests.

However, in the quest to become whole again, in the desperate attempt to fix the seemingly irreparable damage done, a piece, however small, is always lost in the process. It's a missing piece of the puzzle that forever bears the name of the heartbreaker.

So when Callie walks out of that on call room and forces herself to walk with purpose towards the rest of the doctors and patients in the hospital, she feels the all too familiar pain of heartbreak.

The angry words spouted at her circle around her heart and mind like vultures; swooping down and pecking relentlessly. The wounds bleed, her heart stutters and her mind falters as it zeroes in on the hatred and disgust her wife flung at her.

Pain is something Callie Torres seems to be growing accustomed to because her life, while certainly not the worst, has definitely not been a walk in the park.

Everything seems to be falling apart around her and she can't help but wonder what she's done so terribly, how badly she's messed up in the past that she deserves this relentless storm that seems to feel the need to break her.

As she rushes towards the ER, her face as impassive as it can get, she wonders how many more heartbreaks she'll need to suffer before there's nothing left to break.

George took a huge chunk, Erica swooped in and took another, when Mark died, he took a piece with him too and now that Arizona had spewed her toxic venom and finally put all the cards on the table, there was another piece of her heart missing. A best friend and father to her child, two ex's and possibly and ex-wife and Callie was sure that the next time she opened her heart up it would be the last time. There would be nothing left to fix if she fell victim to heartbreak again; she was sure of it.

It felt like someone had jammed their dirty hand into her chest and had been rummaging around before grabbing her heart and ripping it from her chest.

In the midst of crisis, she found that the place where her heart had been was suddenly empty. Only the phantom pains of its labored beating to remind her that it had been there in the first place.

"Where do you need me?" Callie asked roughly, directing her undivided attention towards Owen, oblivious to the similar hurt and heartache that swirled within his eyes. She was too desperate to redirect her attention to notice the shared pain.

"Take the ER, there's more than enough traumas to go around," he answered before turning away and directing his attention towards another doctor.

With the lights on and only occasionally flickering, Callie steeled herself for her work and approached the first unattended patient she saw.

Picking up the chart at the foot of the bed, she began to scribble some notes in before looking at the twenty something year old blonde who sat there. "I'm Doctor Torres, what seems to be the problem?" Her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears and despite the effort on her part, she doubted she would be able to keep her emotions in check all night.

"I've been having these chest pains and a hard time breathing," the woman replied, her hand gripped to her chest as her breaths came in wheezing bursts.

"Okay," Callie trailed off, grabbing her stethoscope and placing it directly over the woman's lungs, "Take a deep breath for me."

Not hearing anything abnormal, she moved to the girls heart and listened for a moment before pulling the earpieces out and jotting some more notes in the chart. "I'm sorry, I didn't get your name." Callie said after she closed the chart, a forced but pleasant smile on her face in an attempt to comfort her patient.

"Stacy," the twenty year old responded, a weak smile directed back towards the Latina.

"Well, Stacy, your lungs seem clear but—" the rest of Callie's words were cut off as something loud boomed against the side of the hospital. Her attention snapped towards the wall just to her right before a crack appeared in the plaster of the white wall and it gave way.

"Go!" The Latina screamed at her patient, pushing the woman off the gurney and towards the other end of the ER. No sooner had she pushed the woman and started to run towards safety did the wall buckle.

Debris from the crumbling wall flew everywhere, the wind outside gusting and sending the chunks of stone and plaster flying in all directions. Half of a fallen tree fell through the hole in the wall and just when Callie dove to the side to avoid the pointed branch that landed mere inches from her face, a large, broken piece of wood and bark came hurtling towards her and slammed right into the side of her head.

The crack was audible even over the gusts of wind and creaking of the tree; everyone in the ER stopping for a moment to watch in morbid fascination as the Latina fell to the ground, blood pooling around her head.

The strength of the blow was enough to knock the Latina unconscious even before she hit the ground. Her last coherent thought was wondering if her bad luck was ever going to run out.


	2. Waking Up Alone and Confused

_**A/N: Thanks to everyone who has followed and favorited this story. **_

**To the first Guest reviewer: It is the crutch of the ignorant to fling baseless and frankly, inaccurate insults at others. I suggest that next time, you utilize the internet and look up the definition of the words you're throwing at others as I'm not entirely sure you even know what a bigot truly is. **

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Everything was foggy, the sounds of beeping ringing loudly in her ears and the fluorescent lighting above her stinging her sensitive eyes. Callie groaned, her hand shooting towards the throbbing in her head only to feel a thick pad of gauze and a patch of bare skin surrounding it.

Blinking slowly, trying to adjust to the bright lighting, the brunette finally chanced a glance around the room.

It was familiar, having spent so much of her career walking in and out of rooms like these. She blindly grabbed the remote control for the bed and lifted it, unable and unwilling to raise her head, already knowing it would cause her a great sense of discomfort and pain.

"Wh-what happened?" She mumbled into empty room, jabbing down on the call button.

She could clearly recall waking up in her and Christina's apartment, coming in to work,bumping into a frantic Lexie and running down to the on call room to check on Mark.

It was like everything after Mark, his broken penis and getting into the elevator to go home was just wiped away.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Callie," Derek remarked, his voice strained as he tried to sound happy and confident.

"Land of the living?" The Latina asked, her brow furrowing in confusion; the movement sending a wave of pain through her as it stretched the sensitive skin of her scalp. "What happened? Did I die?"

Now that she was really looking around, things looked different than what she remembered. Derek looked different than she remembered.

His hair had more grey than the last time she saw him and maybe it was the dark circles under his eyes or the lighting but he seemed older too.

The concern that etched onto his face at her question had her heart racing faster and her mind struggling to piece things together; the staccato beeping of her heart monitor showing her anxiety level. "Derek, what's going on?" She asked again, her worry not yet on full display as she urged the man to spit out whatever he was holding back.

"You don't remember anything? The storm? The accident? Nothing?" Derek pulled out a penlight and began to shine it in her left eye before moving to her right. Her eyes reacted normally to the light, her pupils constricting as the bright rays shone into her brown irises.

"No, what storm? What accident?" She again asked, reluctantly following his finger as it moved from left to right. "Seriously Derek, what the hell is going on?" Her anger was quickly overtaking her fear and she was about five seconds from flipping on the neurosurgeon who seemed to be keeping things from her.

"I'll answer all of your questions, I just need you to tell me what year it is." He looked at her, oozing patience and concern; something that simultaneously annoyed and frightened Callie.

"Two thousand and nine," she said slowly. His eyes widened and Callie was suddenly aware of at least one aspect of her injury.

Memory loss.

Derek wouldn't look so shocked and worried if she didn't have some sort of memory loss. Plus the fact that she couldn't remember anything surrounding whatever landed her here was another good indicator.

"It's two thousand thirteen, Callie." He waited for her shocked expression but it never came, Callie just continued to stare at him blankly, unable to feel the full weight of what he was saying. "We were stuck in the hospital during a storm, the lights went out and we were all scrambling around to take care of our patients. Right after Richard turned the lights on, you came into the ER to lend a hand when a tree broke through the wall and you were hit with the debris. You've been out for a little more than a week."

Callie nodded slowly, trying to process the information without going into shock. "Why can't I remember anything for the past, what, four years?"

Derek grimaced and pointed towards the gauze pad on her head, "You were hit in the head by a sizable chunk of wood. We managed to get you to an ER but with the force of the impact, your brain started swelling, that combined with the amount of blood loss…" He chanced a glance at the woman in the bed, his expression morphing into one of concern, "I managed to relieve the pressure and stop the bleeding but with all the trauma—"

"I ended up losing memories along the way," Callie supplied, her brain working overtime as she struggled to remember four years worth of suddenly missing memories. It was pointless though, it was like the slate had been wiped clean and she had no idea what she was supposed to be looking for or trying to bring to the forefront of her memory. "I thought cases like these revolve around the accident, why did I lose _four_ years?"

Hysteria was starting to set in, the reality of a handful of years suddenly gone was all too jarring for her and Callie couldn't keep her emotions in check even if she tried. It certainly wasn't the worst outcome from what sounded like a terrible injury but she couldn't help but wish she had ended up with something less world altering.

Derek, unable to explain the often unpredictability of amnesia, could only shrug and offer what he hoped passed as a logical explanation. "You've had a lot going on the past year, maybe this is your brain's way of protecting itself from those memories. We see cases like this all the time." His gaze was momentarily directed towards the blonde surgeon who stood in the doorway, his smile wavering as he tried to wrap up things and give the two some privacy. "Look, Callie, it's not uncommon for patients suffering from a hard blow to the head to experience memory issues. Odds are they'll slowly start to come back to you, you just need to give it some time."

With that, he tried to offer his most comforting smile before placing her chart back and briskly walking out of the room, not wanting to witness what was about to transpire between the two women.

As Callie watched him leave, a thoughtful frown on her face, she finally noticed the familiar looking blonde in the doorway. Her forehead scrunched in confusion before a name popped out in her head.

"Arizona?" Callie said softly, testing the name and waiting for a reaction from the other woman. "Arizona Robbins, right?" She asked, having remembered the pediatric surgeon arrival at the hospital and the angry ranting Bailey often spouted about her.

Arizona stood rooted to her spot in the doorway, unable to bring herself any closer to the woman she had yet to reconcile her feelings over. Only a short time had passed since the storm and the blonde was no closer to forgetting her wife's actions than she was before.

"Yeah," Arizona said hesitantly, her stormy blue eyes never leaving Callie's face. "How are you feeling?"

If Arizona hovering by the door bothered Callie, she didn't let it show. Her brown eyes darted towards the hallway, seeming to expect someone else to stroll through. "I'm as good as can be, I guess."

Her inquisitive eyes darted back towards the blonde, "Not to sound rude or anything, but why are you visiting me? I don't think we've even exchanged a single word since you started working here." The moment she asked the question, Callie remembered that her memories were not as up to date as they should have been. At some point during those four years she had obviously gotten to know Arizona, though the level at which they were acquainted was still unclear.

If Mark could just show up, Callie had no doubt that all of her questions would be answered in full; she was even willing to put up with his crude and ridiculous jokes, maybe even listen to him moon over Lexie.

"Uh," Arizona stalled, unsure how to proceed. It didn't seem right to bring up everything that had happened to them but it also didn't feel right to completely ignore their relationship—however damaged it might be at the moment. "We were pretty close before your accident," she finally settled on, not disclosing anything but not avoiding the fact that they had _some_ sort of relationship.

Callie nodded absently, "Do you know where Mark is?" Her brown eyes once again darted towards the hallway, as though she expected him to walk in any moment. "Is he in surgery because if he's not, I could really use him right about now."

The Latina looked at the blonde expectantly, quickly realizing there was something wrong when Arizona's blue eyes widened and her lips parted in surprise. "Y-you don't remember?" She asked quietly, before closing her eyes and nearly smacking herself in the face. "Of course you don't remember," the blonde muttered to herself, shaking her head slightly as she did so. "Mark—" she began slowly before taking a step towards Callie's bed.

"There was a plane crash," Arizona started, her eyes glazing over as she tried to reign in the unpleasant memories that always accompanied talking about that catastrophic event. "Mark and Lexie didn't make it." She stared at her wife, eyes sorrowful as she tried to imagine what it would be like to have to lose a friend twice. "He's dead, Calliope."

Callie's eyes snapped towards the blonde, her brown eyes filled with tears and disbelief. "Don't call me that," she growled, fighting to keep her tears at bay until the blonde had left the room. However close they had been before, they weren't anymore and Callie had no interest in breaking down in front of a complete stranger. "Look, can you just," her hand waffled towards the door, her eyes anywhere but on the blonde. "I appreciate you telling me but can you just go?"

Arizona nodded sadly but took her leave.

It was hard to see Callie looking so broken, but Arizona was certain that offering her help would do neither of them any good. Whether or not Callie remembered their last moments together was irrelevant, the facts were still there, the actions couldn't be undone and Arizona couldn't just forgive and forget. Her wife might not remember things but Arizona didn't have that burden lifted from her shoulders; she could only hope that Callie would be able to manage on her own.

Two broken people couldn't fix one another; not when one resented the other and one was oblivious to everything that had transpired between them.

The moment Arizona was gone and the door had slid shut, Callie buried her face in her hands and let the sorrowful sobs break free. A part of her refused to acknowledge that Mark was gone. He was such an integral part of her life, he was her person; it seemed impossible that he could just be…_gone_.

Her shoulders shook with the weight of the bomb that had been dropped on her and she couldn't help but wonder what else she had missed, what else had happened and who else she had lost.

Callie mourned for her best friend; wishing she could wake up and have everything return to normal. That she could see Mark, complain to him about her terrible love life and go to Joe's with him.

Nothing seemed right and Callie was left feeling out of sorts and alien in a place she had once felt so comfortable. Her world was off kilter and she suddenly felt so very alone.


	3. An Outsider's Recount of Events

**_Dear Guest Reviewer:_ There's no hostility, prejudice or general belief of racial superiority in describing a Latina character, who has been identified as such on the show, as Latina, so I'm failing to see the racism in that. Just because you've quoted a popular fanfic writer on this site, one who happens to be a LAWYER, doesn't mean their opinion on the matter is the law. I'm glad that you can so freely adopt the opinions of other people but at this point, that's all it is. An opinion. If you don't like the way the story is written, there's a simple solution; skip it, don't read it. And if you feel the inherent need to continue to call me a racist and bigot then stop hiding behind the anonymity of a guest review and get an account because I'm not going to defend myself or my writing through author notes at the beginning of every chapter. **

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Callie couldn't be sure how long she lay in the bed, her face buried in her pillow to muffle the grief and mourning that seemed to be washing over her in waves. It wasn't often that she felt like she was drifting in open water; desperate for a life preserver or a helping hand to pull her from the murky depths, but she found herself wishing for that salvation now.

It was in the way that passing doctors looked at her, the pity and sadness that seemed to overwhelm their expressive eyes that was driving her to the brink of insanity and pushing her further into the recesses of her sorrow.

Desperation to know what she had missed warred with her need for self-preservation, knowing that the news she would hear would not be at all pleasant. If losing Mark was the worst thing to happen to her, then why did everyone look at her like she was on display as the broken and ignorant patient? The one who had no idea her world had imploded around her and was forced to lay in wait until someone took mercy on her and lifted the blinders from her eyes?

Mark was the person who did that for her; he was the foundation that kept her grounded, he provided a sense of normalcy to her otherwise chaotic life. When Erica left, he was the one to sit beside her and offer unwavering support; he listened to her rants and encouraged her to get back out there. To stop focusing on the bits of her that her ex's were slowly taking from her, to channel the fierce orthopedic surgeon she had always been.

All the crying and grief wouldn't change anything; Mark was gone and the place she was in felt surreal.

It just didn't feel _real_.

"Quit your staring people! Don't you have work to do? Patients to attend to? Or are you getting paid to just stand around and gawk?!" Miranda Bailey's voice boomed through the hallway and Callie could just imagine the familiar and angry scowl that was etched onto her face. The way everyone around her would scatter like cockroaches in fear of incurring her wrath.

Hastily wiping away the tear tracks, Callie forced herself to sit up in bed and looked at the general surgeon who walked through the door.

"You look terrible," she said as an opener, her brashness making Callie unwittingly smile.

"I feel terrible," Callie responded, waving her hand towards the pad of gauze on her head. "Head injury and memory loss, in case the gossip hasn't reached you yet."

Bailey looked at the Latina with an unimpressed look on her face, not even cracking a smile at the weak attempt at humor. "Stop that," she admonished, not one to let a friend wallow in their own self-pity. Though she herself had gone through a bout of it, that didn't mean she was willing to let someone close to her do the same thing. It never solved anything and was just a way of putting off the inevitable.

"So you lost some memories, so what? You're still a highly renowned surgeon, you have a wife and daughter who love you and you're _healthy_," she stressed, pointing out all the positives in Callie's life in hopes of keeping her from falling into a downward spiral.

Unfortunately for Bailey, she hadn't heard much about how far back Callie's memory loss went and therefore had no idea that she had just dropped yet another bomb on the unsuspecting woman.

"I'm sorry," Callie sputtered, her eyes widening comically as she tried to confirm what she was almost positive she heard correctly. "Did you just say a _wife_ and _daughter_?" Her voice rose an octave, her breaths coming in shallow and erratic.

"Y-you didn't know?" Miranda stammered, her own eyes wide with disbelief. She had been under the impression that Callie had only forgotten a few weeks or months prior to the storm but she was now fully aware of how wrong that assessment was. It seemed the memory loss went further back than she thought. "What's the last thing you remember?" Bailey chanced asking, wondering just how much catching up Callie had to do.

"Certainly not getting married or having a _kid_," Callie said angrily, her emotions once again leading her to her default outlet of anger. It was ridiculous to get mad at one of the few people who would fill her in on everything she had missed or forgotten, but there was no stopping the overflow of emotions.

_Mark's dead, I have a wife and I have a daughter._ Her mental tally of events was short but absolutely world changing. And somehow, she couldn't help but feel these things were still the tip of the iceberg.

"Okay, that one was my fault," the general surgeon admitted, her hands out in front of her as she tried to stymie Callie's onslaught of anger and disbelief. "I was under the impression you had only forgotten a few weeks, not years."

Callie didn't respond, opting instead to scowl at the other woman.

"Don't give me that look," she heatedly said to the angry woman, her glare immediately lessening Callie's scowl. "Now, tell me the last thing you remember."

Rubbing a hand over her face in frustration, Callie glared at the glass doors of her room, struggling to sort through her memories. "I remember the prisoner we had here," she said slowly, glossing over the injury Mark had sustained while in an on call room with Lexie, "and you working a case on a kid who needed an intestine transplant." Her last recollection came out as more of a question as she redirect her gaze towards the other woman in the room.

"Huh," Bailey said after a silence had settled in the room. "Definitely not a few weeks," she muttered to herself, trying to sort through the things she thought Callie would need to know.

A part of her was under the impression that despite the relationships Callie had forged with the various staff members and doctors, very few were going to step up and fill her in on everything she had missed. And judging from the absence of her wife, she could safely assume Arizona wasn't going to do it either.

So once again, the weight fell on Bailey's shoulders.

"Are you sure you want to hear about all of this right now?" She asked after giving Callie and appraising look, knowing that four years worth of drama and life changing facts were probably going to be more than overwhelming for the other woman. "We could always wait a little while, maybe skip it and hope you can somehow jog your memory?" It was a last ditch effort to avoid being the one to spill the beans but she was desperately hoping Callie would chicken out and put off this discussion.

Shaking her head stubbornly, needing to have the band aid ripped off as quickly as possible, Callie crossed her arms over her chest and quirked an eyebrow at Miranda. "I just found out my best friend is dead and that I'm not only married but I have a daughter. I can't afford to lay here in ignorance, just tell me Bailey."

Upon seeing Miranda's hesitance and reluctance, Callie let her desperation bleed through, "_Please_," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she tried to convey just how badly she needed to know. How much _torture_ it was to be completely oblivious to four years of her life; four years that had clearly contained a lot of life changing events.

"Just—" Bailey walked over and sat down in the seat beside Callie's bed, "if it's too much, just stop me." She stared down the other woman, wanting a verbal agreement, to see that the orthopod would stop if she was too overwhelmed.

Callie nodded, her face set in pure determination as she directed all of her attention towards Miranda.

"I'm actually not sure where to start," Bailey said after a moment of trying to find an apt place to start. So much of it was weaved together that she wasn't entirely sure how to reveal one thing without it segueing into something that Callie wouldn't entirely understand.

"Start with my wife, who am I married to?" Callie supplied giving Bailey a place to start.

"You married Arizona Robbins, the pediatric surgeon here, and I was the person to officiate your wedding. Which was really beautiful by the way."

Callie stared blankly at the woman, suddenly realizing why Doctor Robbins had just shown up in her room. It was actually laughable that her own wife, however unreal it seemed, had described their relationship as 'pretty close' instead of what it really was. It also begged the question of why her own wife hadn't decided to fill her in on things; why she was making a friend and colleague do it.

"Did we have a strong relationship?" Callie asked, cutting off Bailey's next recount of events. It was irking the Latina that her wife, the person who had agreed to spend an eternity with her, was suddenly absent. Obviously it meant that things weren't as great as they seemed, right?

Bailey faltered, her gaze skittering away as she took a deep breath and prepared to recount the breakups and makeups the two had gone through.

That wasn't even including what happened after the plane crash. That was a topic Bailey wasn't going to delve into, no matter how badly Callie wanted to know. If she wanted answers, Arizona was going to have to man up and give them.

"Yes and no," she said slowly, sorting through the many stories about their relationship she had been told. "She approached you first," Bailey's face took on a thoughtful expression, "it was during the time you were still getting over Erica and trying to move on. She found you in Joe's bathroom and kissed you; and from what you've told me before, it was romantic in a weird and unexpected way."

Callie nodded, urging Bailey to continue.

"But when she found out you had only ever dated one woman, Erica, she rebuffed your advances and—well, she just wasn't interested." She bypassed the part where Arizona called her a 'newborn' figuring it wouldn't help matters. "Something happened and she suddenly changed her tune, she apologized for turning you down because of your lack of experience with women and asked you out. To which you almost immediately agreed."

Callie wasn't entirely shocked to have pursued someone like that, it was what the old Callie would have done, the one who hadn't had her heart smashed to smithereens back to back. "I married her," she said slowly, and endless stream of questions fluttering through her mind. "How did my parents react? They do know, don't they?" She asked, having spent quite a few of her days with Erica wondering how her parents would take the news of her sexual fluidity.

Bailey cringed, something that put Callie even more on edge. "That bad?" Callie asked worriedly, knowing that if it came down to the person she loved wholeheartedly and her family, she would most likely end up choosing love. And she suddenly had the feeling that in this scenario, she did exactly that.

"Your father found out about you dating Arizona and gave you the ultimatum to either breaking things off with her or he would cut you off." Bailey tried to read the Latina but couldn't read past the utter shock that covered her face. "Mark suggested you lie and say you broke up but you didn't want to lie or have Arizona think you were ashamed of your relationship so you told your father just that."

"Do they hate me?" Callie croaked, wondering if she had lost her family as well. It sounded like she had good reason to choose her wife but there was no emotional investment on her part at the moment and it just felt like she lost her family over the idea of love. The romantic in her, the part of her that fell in love with the idea of love, believed it and understood why that choice had been made.

But the logical part of her, the part that wasn't ruled by her emotions—however small the part was—couldn't wrap it's head around the idea of disowning someone over love.

"No," Bailey hastily added, her hands reaching out to comfortingly grab Callie's, "you worked things out with your parents. Your father even came to your wedding and shared a dance with you, though Mark was the one to walk you down the aisle."

Callie groaned, her head throbbing with the onslaught of facts that she could simultaneously believe and not believe.

"What else?" Callie asked after the wave of pain had washed over her.

"You both broke up a few times. You wanted kids and she didn't and it didn't seem like your opinions would be changing any time soon. But there was a shooter at the hospital and I guess you both realized that being together meant more than fighting over the idea kids. The second time you broke up was because Arizona got a grant to do work in Africa. From what I understand, she was angry at your attitude leading up to the flight and broke things off in the airport terminal. You were a wreck for awhile there."

Callie stared at Bailey with nothing short of an incredulous look on her face, unable to fathom how she could overcome getting left in an airport or how they could just move past an issue like wanting kids. Obviously Arizona came around, seeing as they have a daughter, but it made Callie wonder if the reason Arizona seemed so distant was because she was living a life she never wanted.

The absence of said wife was only serving to confirm her conclusions.

"But we made it through all of that and got married?" Callie asked, wanting reassurance or confirmation of what she was hearing.

"Yes." Bailey said definitively, her head nodding as if to punctuate the truth of it.

"What's my daughter's name?" Callie asked softly, ignoring the wave of pain that crashed through her chest as she thought about her wife who had been anywhere but at her side. It hurt to think that another one of her relationships had failed so miserably.

Instead, she wanted to focus on the one thing she had always wanted; a child—_her_ child.

"Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres," Bailey said with a smile, watching Callie's eyes light up at the name before a frown eclipsed her joy.

"Sloan? Mark is the father?" Callie asked, a part of her desperately hoping he was so she would at least have some part of him still with her. At his point, she had no closure, no sense of finality when it came to him but having a daughter with him, however shocking it was, was a small comfort.

Again, Bailey nodded, her smile growing as she squeezed Callie's hand, "Mark was the father and you carried her."

Of that, Callie had no doubt. Kids were always in her life plan. No matter her age, she had always been firm in her belief that she would one day have a son or daughter. It only made sense that if Mark was the father, that she would be the one to carry her to term, especially with the knowledge that Arizona hadn't really wanted kids.

The news of her wife and daughter was overwhelming at best and as much as Callie hated to admit it, she was in no condition to hear about the rest of her life. Just hearing Bailey talk about her relationship had her head spinning and a migraine descending upon her.

"I think that's all I can handle for today, Bailey," Callie said softly, already getting lost in her thoughts and the newfound information.

"Alright," Bailey said after a moment, wanting to make sure the brunette was fine before leaving to start her rounds. "Page me if you need anything," were her parting words before she slipped out the door.

Sitting in the hospital bed, stuck with only her thoughts, Callie was distinctly aware of the watered down stories she had been told but that didn't mean they were any less impactful.

Despite the story surrounding her relationship with Doctor Robbins, or more accurately, Arizona, Callie couldn't help but feel a little lighthearted. Sure, her marriage _may_ be falling apart but somewhere, not too far, she had a daughter.

It was hard to dwell on the negatives when she had a part of her somewhere out there. If nothing else got her through this memory lapse, then her daughter Sofia Robbin Sloan Torres surely would.

_A daughter_, was Callie's last thought before the exhaustion from her garnered information overtook her.

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_**Again, thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed this story!**_


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